Ultimate Tiger Crisis
by Dnana Bana Nana
Summary: From the Dreamwidth kink meme: An old fashioned hero story - Kotetsu will always take up the mantle of a hero, even if he's gotta do it in secret. Alter egos, conspiracies, and badass longcoats are all just a part of the job. AU.
1. Issue 0: (not intended for resale)

_From the depths of the Dreamwidth Tiger & Bunny request meme comes the ultimate crisis that is a little less than infinite! Please don't sue me, Sunrise, I'm just a poor college student!_

**Issue 0 (not intended for resale)**

"This is an emergency report! There's been a crime! A group calling themselves the Big Bucks Band have stolen a million Stern dollars! Live on the scene is Sternbild's newest Hero, Barnaby Brooks Jr., here to put a stop to the dastardly thieves!"

"Alright, the newbie's in downtown, Gold Stage. Plenty of space. Time to get to work."

On the lowest level of Sternbild, a shabby gang pile out of their rusted van, carrying crowbars, dented bats, and bricks. They stroll up to a building that has fewer boarded windows than the others and promptly smash the glass.

"Seriously, these Heroes really are helping us poor bastards. They go and stop the dastardly thieves so we can do our jobs down here in peace!"  
They laugh as they began taking boxes of electronics to their van. The announcer's voice drifts from the van's stolen radio system.

"Yes, the light of justice falls brightly on the back of this great Hero!"

A Tiger slinks in the shadows, stilling his breath. Just a little closer.

The burglars never notice him.

"Ah! The criminals have left their guards down! Barnaby strikes!"

A cry makes the gang look back."What the-"

A blinding right hook takes out another member.

The gang is only stunned for a second before they rush towards their attacker.

"Two smashing kicks and the thugs are out for the count!"

They try to overwhelm him. They try to corral him, try to swing their crowbars and bats at him. He rushes towards them, dodges their attacks, and heavily elbows one thief.

_Crack._

Two thieves.

He grabs one of their makeshift weapons and flings it towards a wall, its owner carried with it.

A three thief KO.

"Oh no! There they go in their getaway car! Will they escape?"

The smarter ones take advantage of their allies' beatings to hop into their van and take off.  
Their relief lasts for about six seconds.

"And our hero brings them to a halt with a wire shot!"

A series of thuds makes some of the passengers look towards the back windows.  
For a split second, they see the trailing end of a dark coat.

_Thudthud_**CRASH**- the hood caves in. The man in the dark coat aims another kick to the window, which cracks but doesn't shatter. It does its job; the driver can't see through the spiderweb impact point.

"Amazing! What a show of style and foresight!"

The driver slams on the brakes in panic, unintentionally launching their van's assailant several feet into the air.  
He frantically takes lopping, scrambling steps backwards to expend his sudden inertia.

"Crapcrapcrapcraaaap...!"

He trips over a startled alley cat and lands in a graceless pile of limbs and garbage bags.

"Oookay, didn't think that one through."

The driver gets out, sees the man trying to untangle himself.  
He takes his only chance.  
His eyes start glowing blue.

"What's this!? The enemy has revealed himself as a NEXT!"

The remaining pack members see the blue, see the swirling cloud of dust gathering around their boss.

They now know what he is.

They flee from the NEXT who founded their ragtag gang, who helped them elude the heroes, who activated his power have a fighting chance against their opponent.

He's a NEXT. It doesn't matter anymore.

"An explosive attack! Seems like this NEXT has the power to make bombs in mid air. What will our hero do?"

The NEXT boy has the power to move small, fine clouds of dust. Not a marketable power. But combined with a little Wikipedia science and a Zippo...

Tiger hops up and strikes a pose, trying desperately to save some dignity. "All right, forget you saw all that, time to take you punks do-!"  
He sees the dust gathered around him and hears the click of a lighter.  
"-owwwww-"

_BOOM_

The blast was surprisingly quiet, more of a rushing sound than anything. But it burns hot and bright and quickly. A huge fireball engulfs the alley. The rundown buildings are illuminated, the trash bags ignite.

Anything caught in the explosion is roasted.

"Is this the end of our hero's tale?! ...Wait... coming out of the smoke, it's-!"

A glowing blue figure strides out from the ashes and flames.

"It's the Hundred Power! Barnaby Brooks Jr. has activated his NEXT ability and survived the explosion!"

Tiger walks a few dozen paces away and releases a now completely traumatized cat from his arms, who darts away to somewhere without clumsy humans and dust explosions.

The two NEXT stare intensely at each other. They move.

The NEXT boy summons more dust as quickly as he can, which swirls all along the street. He readies his light.

"The criminal launches another big bang, but it's no use, Barnaby goes in for a final attack!"

The flames go down to the end of the block. No chances this time.

There's a loud crack of breaking pavement, and the flames part at the center, pushed by a burst of air.

The NEXT looks up.

The hero is up fifty feet in the air, glowing with the blue of his powers and the orange from the flames below him. The momentum given by his power allowed him to jump out of the inferno and aim an attack at his foe.

The pyromaniac tries to dodge, though he knows it's too late.

""ORYAAA!""

He's hit square in the face.

_Thud._

He's down._  
_

Tiger walks through swirling dust up to his fallen opponent and squats down next to him.

He sighs.

"You need better friends."

* * *

"This is Unit 34, following up that report of an explosion in south central Bronze Stage. We've apprehended eight suspects for a related charge of attempted burglary. I also believe we have a possible code 333."

"A 333? Are you sure?"

"Preeeetty sure. Most of the suspects were found unconscious and cuffed with black and bronze striped zip ties, and a note apologizing for any possible property damage, quote 'but it's that smart-alack NEXT punk's fault for starting it.'"

"...Yep, it's him. Definitely him."

A man wearing a long dark coat with the insignia of a tiger on the back watched the police take away the defeated gang.  
He sits on a ledge, listening to an old transistor radio.

"And here's the score for tonight, ladies and gentlemen! Barnaby Brooks Jr. was in top form, gaining a total of 1000 points!"

"And the supreme winner tonight, with a grand total of 100 bazillion points, is Wild Tiger!"  
Kotetsu T. Kaburagi threw his arms up in a cheer. No one saw; the police already left.

"Thank you all, heroes, for making Sternbild a safer place to live!"

Kotetsu stood up with a smile, and unbeknownst to him, the Hero Barnaby Brooks Jr. held the same expression for the cameras.

""Just doing my job.""

The crowd cheers for their hero, and a Tiger leaps off into the night.

* * *

"...Um, Ben? C-could you come pick me up, please? I... kinda twisted my ankle jumping off a building. Again."

"..."

"Sorry. I won't try to act cool anymore. Promise."


	2. Issue 1: Pulling Out the Stops

**Unlimited Tiger Crisis**

**Issue #1**

**Pulling Out the Stops**

Barnaby Brooks Jr. hotly pursues the last henchman of a serial diamond thief. He's been in a sour mood after Sky High took the points for defeating the fat, bratty mastermind himself.

Couldn't be helped. _A simple NEXT type disadvantage,_ he tells himself. Just like when Sky High safely exploded that bomb in the hotel. A type disadvantage.

The butler made it all the way past the bridges into the periphery city, but Barnaby is closing in. He lost sight of him a while ago, but Barnaby's suit picked up the signal from the tracer he planted on that jetpack.

This section of Sternbild is a wreck. Every third building is boarded up and covered in graffiti. The wayward pedestrians have a hard and weathered appearance as they shamble from gated liquor stores, dingy bars, and brazen strip joints. _So this is where shining Sternbild hides its ugly side. Great._ _Agnes isn't going to like how this looks on the camera._

The Hero sighs. "Honestly, what a waste of time."

The signal stops.

_Odd… who in their right minds would want to stop on Shank Street? _Barnaby pushes away the niggling doubt. Mooks weren't exactly known for their grand foresight. He grumbles a bit more. At this rate, the muggers won't leave anything for him to arrest.

A few minor traffic scuffles later Barnaby arrives at the shady looking street. He sees a dented stop sign laying nearby. _I knew I had the right of way at that intersection_.

One brief, highly advanced suit scan locates the mook.

He's on the ground.

Unconscious.

With his jetpack wrapped around him.

..._Huh. I'll give the muggers credit for originality_.

He approaches the butler and his confusion escalates. Laying next to the constrained thief is the bag of pilfered loot from the museum.

This was no mugging. This is Hero work.

Did Dragon Kid kill steal again? Probably not, she would stick around for a victory shot.

Rock Bison then? No, that man couldn't catch criminals to save his life.

Sky High is too busy getting his big pat on the back for being the hotshot Hero of the day (no, he's not bitter AT ALL) , Blue Rose is off looking pretty, Fire Emblem wasn't in the area, and Origami Cyclone might as well be a cardboard cutout for all he does.

Barnaby's brilliant mind churns through the facts of the ever-growing mystery. Nothing but his Hundred Power can twist a jet pack like that, so whoever did this either has a million dollar mech suit like him or is a super powered NEXT.

"Ugh…" The groan snaps Barnaby out of his reverie. Time to sate his curiosity. He folds his arms and puts on his best Menacing Interrogator Pose. "All right, who apprehended you?"

Jeeves the butler thief processes the question and says with quite some dignity "I believe it was the stop sign, good sir."

Then he keels over and falls back asleep.

… _this is not my day._

His PDA suddenly crackles and Barnaby winces at the fire of Agnes Joubert's reprimand. "Hey, what gives, Brooks?! You were supposed to wait for us to capture your catch! And look - you destroyed the last traffic sign in the area ! Whose check do you think's going to cover that?!"

"I didn't do this, I found him knocked out and tied up with his own jet pack!" A second too late Barnaby realizes just how ridiculous this whole situation sounds. The executive producer of Hero TV sounds supremely unimpressed , her voice dripping with disapproval. "Very funny, Brooks. Maybe you should be marketed as a fun jokester character instead." _Yeah, because I have such a lighthearted personality._ "The others are all up here at the Golden Stage cleaning up the stragglers, and unless a ghost came and wrangled up the goon for you, you have a bill and a strongly worded letter from the Justice Department to look forward to."

Barnaby grits his teeth. So not only does he lose whatever meager points he scraped, he has to bear the mark of property damage on his record?!

_This is unforgivable…_

No matter who it is, how long it might take, he will hunt after the perpetrator and bring the hammer of justice down upon their head. No one frames Barnaby Brooks, Jr. for a misdemeanor and gets away with it.

**[LATER]**

It wasn't too long before the police were shoving the goon into the back of a police van, after Barnaby pried off the jetpack.

"Thanks for you for your help, Mr. Brooks! I-it's such an honor to work with a real Hero, sir!" Said Hero flashes a celebrity smile. "It's no problem, officer."

The second the cameras turn away, the smile turns serious. "Do you have any idea who was behind the criminal's apprehension?"

"Huh? Could have sworn Hero TV said it was you." With a bitter expression, Barnaby shakes his head. "They gave me credit, but the suspect was already tied up by the time I found him."

The officer laughs, "Oh wow, sir, that's a good one!" Barnaby's eyebrow twitches. _I'm just the King of Comedy today, aren't I… _

"I'm sorry, officer, _but do I look like I'm joking_?"

That shut him up.

"O-o-o-okie dokie, it wasn't you. S-sorry. But who else but a Hero… could …have …?" The officer trails off and looks back at the wrecked sign and mangled jetpack.

He gasps. "I-I think this is a 333!"

Barnaby's gaze sharpens. The police know enough about mysterious mook nabbers to have a code for it? "A 333?"

The officer surveys the scene with an astounded look. "I've only ever heard _rumors_ about this! Oh man...ah!" He sees Barnaby's piercing stare. "A - a 333 is code for ... um ... gosh, I've never actually needed to check before, I don't know the actual definition..." He sees Barnaby's foot tapping. "L- let me check!" The greenhorn pulls out a tiny book that somehow looks thick enough to contain an abridged Tolstoy novel. "Here we go! It's a 'Suspected person of intervention in the apprehension of suspects'."

That clears things up.

The officer pales at the stony look on the Hero's face. "W-well, I'm just a newbie, and I'm usually stuck around the Silver Stage, so I don't know a lot, but the boys at the Bronze Stage and the periphery use that code whenever they think this one weird guy was involved in a crime scene!"

Weird guy involved in a crime scene. Absolutely nothing good can come of those words.

"Ah shoot, I didn't mean for that to sound so bad! They say he just stops bad guys so we can catch them and I don't think I was supposed to tell you that."

"Could it be a free agent Hero?" It's unlikely at this point in the season, but it's better than the alternative. The officer shakes his head. Barnaby feels a headache coming on.

"Nah, it's not Hero TV business. No one ever talks about him 'cept through rumors."

Barnaby looks at the wreckage once again and sighs. If this is not an official Hero, that only leaves one unpleasant conclusion.

There's a vigilante on the loose. An unregistered NEXT running around doing as he pleases.

_This is really not my day._

"I understand. By the way, does this 'suspected person of intervention' go by any other name?"

"U-um, it's not official or anything, but at the station a while back, one of our interns came up with a kitschy nickname that stuck, and some small-name magazine even printed it in an article! I think it's something like..."

* * *

_**Bronze Tiger: Myth or Reality**_**?**

"Gah, why'd they come up with such a lame name?! Wild Tiger is way better! Bronze Tiger just makes me sound like an Olympic runner up."

Top Mag employee Kotetsu T. Kaburagi scowls petulantly at the article. It's one paragraph long, with a blurry picture and stuck on a page plastered with ads.

The part-time vigilante understands the importance in keeping a low profile, but every now and then a little recognition is nice, even if it's just a little blurb in his own company's magazine. Hey, it's worth the risk! It's not like anyone reads Top Mag anymore… Kotetsu hangs his head and sighs.

_And now I'm depressed again. I blame that annoying, flippy haired Hero newbie. I mean, he doesn't even wear a mask! Doesn't he know the power of a domino mask!?_

At that moment, his employer Ben Jackson walks in and interrupts Kotetsu's internal rant.

"Hey boss, nice article! Gotta take an issue with the name, though. I mean, those officers sure try, but they just don't get hero names!"

Ben gives him a tired half-smile, then his face turns somber and he sighs. "Kotetsu, I'm afraid I have some bad news."

**[ONE EXPLANATION LATER]**

"Bought out?!"

"We aren't doing too well, you know. Top Mag couldn't seriously compete with the official Hero magazines on the racks. I figured in a few years we were going to end up folding. Apollon media bought up our license for the sake of clearing some space for another Barnaby Brooks Jr. special magazine."

Kotetsu couldn't believe it - another freakin' magazine for that new primped up pretty-boy Hero?

He supposes Apollon wants to exploit their investment's no mask policy while he's still fresh.

"Apollon decided to cut us some slack and hire any umm..." he looks at the paper in his hand, "'...disgruntled employees into appropriate positions befitting their skill levels'."

Kotetsu grit his teeth at the sheer smarminess of the message. "They drive us out of business, then turn around and make us work for them? Who do they think they are?!"

Ben shakes his head in resignation. "I think they want to keep a friendly public image now that they have their new Hero. At least they're offering a compensary pay raise."

"If they think for a second that I'm gonna take them up-!"

"Kotetsu," Ben's voice is gentle, but firm, "it may seem humiliating, but you've got to think of your family. You need to support them somehow, and Apollon is offering both decent and immediate pay. No other option is really open now, so I strongly recommend you swallow your pride and take them up."

Kotetsu mulls over Ben's advice. He pulls a hand over his face and grimaces.

"What about my real job? It's gonna be like going behind enemy lines, ya know."

Ben's expression is more serious now. "It's not going to be easy, Kotetsu. They won't give you as much leeway as I do, so you'll need to cut down on your 'non-smoking breaks' and 'extended lunch hours'." Kotetsu grins sheepishly at that.

"Never give them a reason to suspect you. Never leave too conspicuously, and don't _ever_ use your powers in the open, at all if you can help it. Everyone has forgotten that Kotetsu T. Kaburagi is a NEXT; any reminders could lead to an investigation. It wouldn't take long to see that Kaburagi's old identity Wild Tiger had the same power as Bronze Tiger. The last thing I want to see is you getting arrested by the same Heroes you love so much."

A heavy pause follows.

Kotetsu shifts and stands slightly straighter. "Thanks boss. I know the risk. I won't get caught," Kotetsu unconsciously fingers his ring, "I made a promise."

"I sure hope so, Kotetsu. There are a lot of people who'd be very sad if you were gone."

Kotetsu gives a crooked half-smile. "You sure about that?"

"I'm very sure," Ben says firmly.

There's a long silence between them.

"I guess this is goodbye, then?"

"We'll see each other around, don't worry."

"Gonna miss being around one of my best fans."

"I'm not gonna miss the heart attacks you give me every time you split apart a car."

They laugh for a while.

Kotetsu and Ben stop at the door and face each other. Their handshake is warm and genuine.

"Remember to shake people down for tips, cabbie."

Ben grins genially.

"And you remember," Ben's smile softens, "that you'll always be a hero to me, no matter what anyone says."

Kotetsu suddenly has to look away and tug his hat over his eyes. "Geeze, isn't that the cheesiest line I've ever heard, boss..."

Ben claps a hand on his shoulder.

"Good luck, Tiger."

* * *

A small, blurry figure flies close to some dilapidated buildings.

Suddenly, from the rooftop before him, someone swings a long octagonal object into the flying figure's face.

He drunkenly drifts to the ground.

The other blurry figure hops down next to him and tosses aside a stop sign. For some reason, Barnaby has to restrain his hand from slapping his forehead. He could just _sense_ the terrible pun the man had uttered.

Blurry Guy #1 pulls out what could be interpreted as a gun. He looks just about ready to fire, still tilting.

The air around Blurry Guy #2 seems to be wavering, and though the black and white image doesn't show it, Barnaby knows it glows blue.

He waits…

And at that moment, an 18-wheeler rolls by in front of the camera. D_oesn't that just figure_…

By the time it passes, only the hog-tied butler remains.

Barnaby closes the footage. He's lucky the incident took place near the one working traffic camera in the area.

A possible vigilante with NEXT powers. That makes things troublesome.

If Barnaby just knew his NEXT power, he can pull up Blurry Guy #2's file in a nanosecond and have him arrested.

If he knows the NEXT, he knows the man.

"Ack! 'Scuze me, sorry, I'm so sorry!"

Some idiot ran into a secretary and scattered her papers. His bumbling attempts at helping is causing a commotion. Barnaby hates commotions, especially during suspect-investigation time. The man shuffles sheepishly into Lloyds' office. _I really hope he's getting fired._

He forgets the disturbance and makes his decision.

Barnaby needs more evidence before he could go to anyone; he'd rather not bother Maverick with only vague police codes, indistinct footage and a tabloid article from a failing magazine.

Barnaby needs to see the mythical Tiger in action with his own eyes.

Now that Barnaby's aware of his existence, Bronze Tiger couldn't hide for long.

_You'll show up sooner or later_.

* * *

"Well, Mr. Kaburagi, in light of your previous work experience and glowing recommendation-"

_And your company's dick move _...

"- we at Apollon media are pleased to announce that you qualify for the position of Dynamic Interactions Specialist."

_... sounds kinda nifty. Might not be so bad here after all_! "Thank you, sir, though I'm sorta confused. Um ... what exactly am I gonna be doing around here?"

Alexander Lloyds gives a smile that's an impressive mix of both smugness and condescension.

"You'll be performing a wide variety of miscellaneous tasks throughout all our departments," Kotetsu feels his brain churning to keep up with the amount of b.s. coming out of Lloyds' mouth, "that includes transportation of intra-departmental documentation,"

Messenger boy.

"personalized asset assistance,"

Coffee boy.

"corporate property consignment and registration,"

Delivery boy.

"and operational task management."

Monkey boy.

"Does that clear things up?"

"So ...in other words ... I'm the odd-job guy."

"Like I said. A Dynamic Interactions Specialist."

They stare at each other, a battle of wills with only one winner. Kotetsu pulls in a deep, deep breath.

"So when do I begin?"

Lloyds smiles his friendly shark grin.

"I believe we're going to get along beautifully, Mr. Kaburagi."

* * *

Kotetsu's impressively misleading job title is courtesy of bullshitjob dot com, whose Bullshit Job Generator can make any job sound like your dream job!


	3. Issue 2: On the Chopping Block

**Unlimited Tiger Crisis**

**Issue #2**

**On the Chopping Block**

The man looks around, his senses going haywire. For the past ten minutes, he felt he wasn't as alone as he wished. There shouldn't be any Heroes way out here in the periphery city, right? The Heroes stay in Central, their pretty fishbowl, and pretend the world outside the Stages doesn't exist - that's how it's always been. How it's supposed to be.

—_fwap—_

But then again, why is there a guy with a domino mask and a worn longcoat grabbing him and now dangling him from a fire escape by his feet?

"GUH-! Wha-what the f-!"

"Hey hey, no need for that language here," He looks up and sees the smirk on the man's face. His opposition to the F-bomb and that weird coat suggest Hero, but the outfit's not quite flashy enough for the audience. But the domino mask and dark green hood with the two triangular folds on top look too Hero to be a coincidence. _Maybe he's a delusional cosplay freak._

"Looks like a tiger's caught YOU by the toe!"

…

…

…

"No, wait, that doesn't sound right – hey c'mon, give me some feedback."

The shock of being caught by a dark avenger of the night asking for advice on mind-numbingly lame one-liners causes the man to stare blankly at this tiger guy's expectant grin for many seconds. Reality soon slams back into his senses.

He sputters, "Y-you have no idea who you're messing with, you wannabe hero!"

The masked man sighs and gives a little shrug, continuing his nonchalant chat, "Yeah, your other friends tell me that all the time. Let's see, you're goon number seven, I believe. Let's see if you're the lucky spiller." A wicked grin appears on Tiger's face. The bronze knuckles on his black gloves glint in the dull neon lights as his fingers tap menacingly on his victim's foot. "It's time for Tiger's Terrific Interrogation Time!"

"Enough with the alliterati_AAAHH_-!" In a single fell swoop, his interrogator rips off his shoe, tickling the sole without mercy.

"_HAHAHOHGODSTOOOOOP_!" The laughter echoes off the dilapidated walls, but the Tiger begins his relentless questioning, "Where's the new storehouse this time, bozo?"

"You – _hahaha_ – th-think I'll ta_HAHAITSOTICKLY_ – OK I'LL TAAAAAAALLLKK!"

Tiger pauses, a finger hovering threateningly over the twitching foot.

The man wheezes, still feeling the uncontrolled laughter bubbling from his chest."_Heh, heh, _it's the garages over near the ha_ha_rbor, a few miles to the e_heehee_ast. The mechanics are covering a chop shop _haha_peration ," he tries to glare at the hero, but the twitching smile and streaming tears dampen the effect a smidge. "That's what all you Heroes want, isn't it? Take down us bad guys and take the points so you can be the next Prom Queen Hero. _Ha_."

The man finds himself lifted face-to-face to the hero's smirking face, "Well, too bad I'm not really on the ballot, I would look _lovely _in a tiara." _Wait a minute, _the Tiger's words suddenly click in the goon's head, _He's not a Hero?! That means this guy's the one—_

But before he makes the connection, the Tiger is upon him.

**[SEVERAL MINUTES LATER]**

"Thank you for your cooperation, Goon Number Seven! Man, this so my night!" The man can't really say the same, being strung up by his hands on the fire escape like a piñata.

"Can't take all the credit, though! Gotta go thank my informant for the hints about the smu—"

_BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP_—!

"ARGGH!"

The sound, several decibels above a fighter jet, erupts from the hero's utility belt. Said hero jumps a good half-foot, landing on a can and falling inelegantly on his back. The goon, unable to protect his ears, is fairly sure his eardrums burst. Through his blistering eardrums, he dimly hears someone muttering, "Stupid beeper, I swear the boss picked the loudest one he could find…"

In a flash, he holds the deafening device, flash drawn from a pouch on his utility belt, which looks suspiciously like a handyman's belt spray-painted black. _With white chevron stripe accents to compliment the ones on the bulletproof vest under the coat_, the goon idly notes in a vertigo-induced fashion critique. Tiger squints at the obsolete device's tiny screen.

"Ah crap!" He hastily picks himself up, almost tripping on the can again. "Geeze, it's three thirty AM, what do you mean 'be here now' you damn dictator!" The Tiger rushes off in a panic, flashing that strangely cute tiger logo, looking very un-mysterious. The defeated goon waits for the police, dimly aware that he got his ass handed to him by a company slave wage.

* * *

It could be worse.

He could be a drunken hobo out on the streets.

But at least then the pigeons wouldn't be asking for five orders of no-fat triple caramel mochas.

"All right, I've got your coffees, enjoy—!"

"HEY! This isn't soy milk! I'm a vegan, you know! And where's the extra whipped cream!?"

"Ugh, I think they used Kona blend instead of Java, buncha amateurs, I swear."

"These coffee beans are _not_ certified organic!"

_Dynamic Interactions Specialist my ass. I didn't sign on to be a barista._

He grits his teeth and attempts to smile without looking like he wanted to shove their stupid cups down their stupid throats. "Alright then, I'll go get –"

"Hey, you! Where are those copies I asked for three minutes ago!?" _Still printing, owing how you wanted 10,000 copies with a ten year old machine you're too cheap to replace._ "Uh, coming right up, chief –"

"My car was supposed to be washed during the public service meeting, so why's my Hummer still have dusty tires!?" _They're drive on top of dirt, what do you expect!_ "S-sorry, I'll finish after—"

"Hey new guy—!"

"Hey—!"

"Hey, listen—!"

"Hey, come and do these for me!" Kotetsu stares at the zit-faced brat shoving papers in his face. "Aren't you an intern?" The kid shrugs. "Yeah, but you're the Dynamic Interactions Specialist!"

Kotetsu is starting to understand just how far down the totem pole he's at. Somehow, he landed a position where everyone simultaneously has high expectations and zero respect for him. He has to know everyone in every department, be everywhere at once, and do every stupid finicky chore perfectly or risk getting something thrown at his face. Again.

Over the past few hours, he's ran paperwork and equipment from all ends of the building, filled out pointless forms and tedious data sheets for others, ran through the streets for dry cleaning / caffeine / returning videotapes / whatever else these yuppies can come up with. Small, pointless jobs no one with a proper salary wants to do.

He sighs and heads towards the back doors with his arms full of his new responsibilities.

_Somehow, this isn't how I pictured my return to Hero TV would go_, Kotetsu thinks as yet another suit shoves a paper into his hand on his way to the editing room.

He never thought he would be back here after leaving the Hero business all those years ago. He made his peace, he just couldn't stay. And now that he's dropped Wild Tiger for Bronze Tiger, he's practically become their sworn enemy.

And yet, for all his years as a vigilante, the companies haven't made a move, or even indicated they were aware of his presence. _I guess I'm not making enough of a difference for them to notice…_ Kotetsu allows himself four seconds of wallowing before slapping his cheeks.

_Well, seven years is a long time_. These big wigs aren't likely to remember a bygone Hero from a defunct company. And anyways, sticking to the unpopular parts of Sternbild is his shtick. Staying far away from Hero TV and the Administration of Justice is the name of the game, he can't do his work under the control of this system. And he'll get arrested. That too.

_Then again, I hear that Sterbild's prisons are nice and peaceful, _he thinks as he picks up the thousands of papers he dropped to slap himself.

His eyes burn with the many hours of bedtime he skipped to do his rounds. One day into his glorified indentured servitude and he feels the pressure on his hero schedule. Ben made it sound so _logical_: earn money to not starve _and_ gain intel at the same time! _Last time I ever listen to logic_, he grouses as he stifles a jaw-breaking yawn.

He walks into the editing room to hand them a few terabytes of video footage he worked on. _I'll take a dozen more coffee orders if it means I don't have to edit in one more stupid lensflare onto Mr. Rookie's stupid fancy suit._

The room was in complete pandemonium. As the nerve center of Apollon's Hero footage and home base for the Hero TV van team, the high-tech room is crawling with editors conferring, splicing, debating, and yelling at each other to decide the best shots for the company Hero.

"…and he should do an orphan rescue to appeal to the traditionalists, they love the classics."

"Roger, we'll keep our ears open."

"I think we should drop the footage of the 40 year old for the supermodel carwash promo, gotta use his looks before gets old and boring."

"Add more bloom, that shot's lighting looks like it was taken by a colorblind old bat."

_Yep, support base of the Heroes, right here_. "Um, hate to interrupt but I have your video junk." The head editor gives him a withering look before she snatches up the USB drives on his. "About time! Alright, people, we have the filler shots done. Splice in what you need and make it snappy!"

He sighs. He can't believe how naïve he was as Wild Tiger.

Of course this is all what the Hero industry is about: wooing the cameras to make heroics marketable. This room filled top to bottom with monitors, editors, and Photoshop are what make Heroes happen. They carefully craft the image the head cheese decided on, paste in the material their Hero gives, and sell it for profit. The business of Heroes is just as efficient and soulless as any other pencil-pushing office job.

Giving a quick glance, he drops his papers and boxes onto an empty desk while no one is looking and grabs a box of cleaning supplies.

_At least there's a few perks._

"How ya doin' Kotetsu! God, it's good to see you here!"

Antonio Lopez gives his best friend a bone-shattering slap on the back.

"Oof! Careful, big guy, I need that spine for delivery runs."

Maintaining the exercise equipment meant Kotetsu could come and see his Hero friend during training hours. Seven years split as work friends meant nothing to Kotetsu and Antonio's longstanding friendship. They meet up for drinks most nights, though they keep to odd hours thanks to Kotetsu's schedule.

He looks around, not recognizing the other Heroes. _Man, I really need a TiVo or something, 'cause I have only have a vague idea what all the other new Hero faces look like. _His TopMag loyalty and functional poverty kept him from looking at other magazines for more than a glance. And his schedule only gave him time for Hero Radio, Sternbild's Number One Official Hero broadcast. There's no giant screens where he patrols, they would be stolen in two seconds flat.

A few of the other Heroes were starting their routines. Some cringing blonde kid is getting his ass handed to him by a tomboy kung fu girl. Another blonde guy (_seriously, does Hero TV have, like, a quota to fill for towheads? With the rookie that's 70% of the cast here)_ sits at the chest press, sculpting his Charles Atlas physique.

Mr. New Guy's a no show. _What, too good for the common rabble or something? _He's not bitter. Not even a little. That other guy Fire Emblem isn't here either, so maybe they're ditching together.

For all his grief with the Hero business, Kotetsu couldn't help but feel his inner fanboy squee with glee.

Heroes! Right in front of him!

He didn't even care that he was there to clean sweaty seats and restock the towels.

He sees a fashionable teenage girl smile pointedly at him, and he smiles broadly back. _See, they can even act like heroes off camera!_

The she tosses her towel in his face.

"Hey towel boy, you mind washing that? Thanks! Oh, and remember to use the name brand detergent, not that generic stuff!"

Screw this. He wants to be hobo man again.

_BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP_—!

"GAH!"

"MY EARS, THEY BLEED!"

"WHO USES BEEPERS NOWADAYS!?"

The Doom Beeper, his new nemesis, goes off like a chainsaw in a tin box. The Heroes struggle to protect their ears, earning him a very annoyed glare from the towel girl. Blushing, his legs automatically run for the door. _Yup, rethinking my life choices right here. _

"I'msosorryguysgottarunseeya!"

Antonio looks after his friend solemnly, his words reaching no one in aftermath of The Doom Beeper. "Don't die, Kotetsu."

* * *

**[MIDNIGHT, AT SNAKE OIL MECHANICS]**

"So, this is where all the cars disappeared to, huh? The place is a dump, I have a feeling Hero TV won't want to shoot here. See, the big guys don't want to ruin Sternbild's appearance, rookie, don't want to show the city's money isn't exactly being well distributed."

"D-does that mean the Heroes won't come to save us? Wh-what are we gonna do, sarge? A-are we gonna go in after them?"

"Easy, rookie, we can't barge in with only two officers. There's too many dangerous guys in there, we need to wait for backup."

"B-but those robbers on the Gold Stage earlier took out three squad cars! And if Hero TV doesn't cover this area, there's no way anyone's going to get here in time!"

"Yup, things look preeeetty bad here."

"Sarge, aren't you worried?! That's an armed chop shop operation right there! They've taken over the neighborhood! They've got enough fire power to last through a siege! They're really, really bad guys and I'm kinda scared..."

"Oh, I'm worried all right. It's a nasty situation. No support from HQ, no word from the Heroes – seems as if we're all forsaken out here. Don't blame you for chickening out."

"I-I'm not a chicken…"

"Heh, sure kid. Luckily,"

A glimpse of a black and green streak flies into a warehouse window.

"These things have a way of working themselves out."

* * *

_Okay, maybe taking on all these guys at once wasn't the smartest plan ever_.

Here he makes the extra effort to make a stylish landing after smashing through the window, and what does he get? Bullets to the face. His reaction time activating Hundred Power is top notch, polished from the number of times he found himself in this exact situation. The bulletproof vest is a nice security blanket just in case.

_Then again, if I could break out of Hero TV mode, I wouldn't be in these messes all the time, _he muses as he charges the stunned car thieves.

He's careful with his punches. Don't want to crush their faces too bad. But it's no less effective. A short series of –_THWACKS_— later, with a particularly rowdy ruffian earning a trip out the window, and the floor is covered with groaning men.

_Well, that was quick. The Hero TV director would have been disappointed with the footage._ He feels his powers fade after a round of zip-tying and surveillance. He stretches and sighs in contentment. This is his mode – stopping baddies with no ridiculous obligations for the camera. _Saving people is more important than getting back their stuff, but if the info's right…_

He strolls up to a van and looks inside. It's a huge, very eco-unfriendly affair, as are the other cars in the shop. Large bodies with a lot of room to spare. Most of them are stripped to their metal skeletons, except for the one in front of him. It's covered in new paint and looks like a perfectly respectable vehicle, but Tiger knows for a fact that decent cars in the peripheral city don't exist.

He promptly rips the siding off (_Hey, it was stolen goods anyway_!) and sees exactly what he came for.

_Jackpot. Flaming Peacock got it right on the_—

–_BANG_–_KLANG_—

A bullet hits the frame, barely missing his ear. He dives under the car as more shots fire. _Reinforcements already?! How the hell did they get here so fast!?_

The hail of gunfire ceases. "Heeey, we've got you surrounded, Bronze Tiger. Make this easy on us and come on out."

_Yeah, forgive me for not caring about becoming target practice! _Things can't be any worse, and even the threat of jinxing doesn't stop Tiger from cursing the situation. _I'm surrounded by a bunch of guys with very big guns, there's the police out front, and I ran out of Hundred Power seven minutes ago because I wanted to look cool. This has been a FANTASTIC day._

He hears footsteps. He has to do something.

His fingers scramble around and hit a metal plank with wheels. _A car creeper, _he recalls. He also spies some bricks that no longer prop up the van, and a discarded tow rope. Above, the floor of the van is not as finished as the body, the space under the pedals empty.

A dusty lightbulb flashes in his head.

* * *

The armed men saunter closer to the truck they spotted that annoying busybody inspecting. They see the stripped siding and, by dumb luck or deliberate investigation, Tiger saw what lay underneath. He can't leave alive.

They raise their guns at the van…

—_VRrrrvrvrvr-r-vROOOOM_!—

…which at that instant, roars to life and lunges forward.

Startled, they jump out of the way, some more alarmed recruits firing wildly at the back. The van makes it ten feet before crashing into the side of a shelled Hummer.

The steadier members smirk. Such an obvious, desperate move. It suits the wannabe hero.

The let loose a deluge of bullets into the stalled car. The mechanic shop lights up from the gunfire. Casings litter the oil-stained floor. They pepper the van's windows, the doors, every place Bronze Tiger might be hiding..

As if they were amateur enough to come near such an obvious trap.

Twenty seconds of thundering gunshots is good enough.

They gesture, and two men walk cautiously towards the demolished back doors. They open the door…

And see bricks tied to the accelerator with a tow rope.

"Awww, damn—"

—THWACKTHWACKTHWACK!—

They jerk their heads behind them and see the man in that ridiculous coat knock down gunman after gunman with powerful, practiced punches.

They hear the click of their empty magazines – they completely unloaded on the rigged van. They frantically reload—and see a black fist with dull bronze knuckles streak for their faces.

–_KA-POW!_–

As the thugs fall, defeated, they swear they hear their victorious opponent say something unbelievably stupid: "Looks like your roadside assistance didn't fit the grade! Wait a minute, I don't think that makes sense, um, gimme some feedback when you wake up."

* * *

_Hm. I should ask Antonio for pointers on cool one-liners. It's tough without editors. _He finishes the last zip tie and lets out an exaggerated sigh, his body sagging in relief.

_Holy Pope in Rome, that was close_. This isn't the first time he used his powers too soon and ended up in trouble. And with no other heroes to save his ass out here in the sticks, he needs to be a bit more flexible.

All things considered, he's pretty happy with how smooth the plan worked. Those thugs were so focused on the van they didn't think to look under the other pile of cars he deliberately crashed into.

_Ow. That wheelie-bob thing worked a little too well. Cracked my head on an axle. _He's surprised he was able to launch himself under the crashed cars without getting shot.

_Aw, yeah! Master of strategies, right here._ Then he looks at the bottom of his coat. "GAH!" Bullet holes pepper the bottom edge. Those idiots firing willy-nilly must have gotten lucky and shot his trailing coattail.

"Ah man! Look at what you jerks did! It's gonna take forever to mend this!" The only thing worse than being an illegal vigilante is being an illegal vigilante with no money. His badass coat has accumulated quite a few stitches and patches over the years. _Why can't my invulnerability protect my clothes all the time?_

Still grousing about tomorrow's sewing work, Kotetsu looks around and confirms the remains of the chop shop guys.

And the remains of the cars.

_Bah! Who cares about property damage? I'm doing community service here!_

Kotetsu sighs sagely. "Well, all's well that ends well, I guess."

"Don't count on it."

A red suit of armor flies towards Tiger.


End file.
